“You have slept here?”

“Yes,” said I. “As you see.”

“Why?” he asked.

“My faith,” I answered lightly, “I was tired.”

He next inquired where I was going and what I had had for dinner; and then, without the least transition, “ C’est bien ,” he added, “come along.” And he and his son, without another word, turned off to the next chestnut-tree but one, which they set to pruning. The thing had passed of more simply than I hoped. He was a grave, respectable man; and his unfriendly voice did not imply that he thought he was speaking to a criminal, but merely to an inferior.